Doomed to Repetition
by Lee Black
Summary: A mysterious boy shows up in the hallway of Slytherin Manor, with no name and no idea how he got there. Rated M for future violence and possibly more. Future Dark!Harry
1. Chapter 1

I realize that I should be focusing on the other 4 stories that I have up and have been, unfortunately, neglecting. About that, I am sorry, and they will be up-dated (hopefully) within the near future. This is just one of the stories that I've taken to writing while I should be paying attention in class (Exams are coming. Goodie.), and I don't know how far it will continue, but seeing as I have written quite a bit so far (most of it out of sequence), I thought it might be worthwhile to try to connect the bits that have been written and then see where it goes from there. So, in other words, please don't expect that this will be continued.

Anyway, now that that's been said, I think it might be appropriate to put the standard **Don't effing sue me** here. Just, you know, as a precaution.

So, here's chapter 1, as this part is done.

* * *

Thomas walked down the hall of the Slytherin Manor, wondering where the ghost of Salazar had disappeared to this time. He walked past the doors to the library when he heard quiet crying that sounded like it belonged to a small child. Pausing momentarily, he waited for a moment before allowing himself to enter the room, though not before withdrawing his wand from where he kept it hidden in the sleeve of his robes.

To his complete surprise, it was just a small boy, curled up in the corner and crying. The boy didn't seem to notice Tom standing only a few feet in front of him, holding the door open, so Thomas took his chance to look over the child. He looked as though he was around three years old, and he was small, almost as though he had been starved, wearing only a large grey shirt. The boy had black hair and tanned skin underneath the bruises, but he could see nothing else of the child, as he'd curled himself incredibly tightly into the fetal position.

Deciding after another long moment that the child posed no threat to him, he slid the wand back into it's hiding place and knelt down next to the boy, who jumped slightly and stared up at him with fear blatant in his green eyes. "I won't hurt you," Tom said quietly.

"Who are you?" the boy asked.

Tom was silent for a long moment, not quite sure what to say to the young boy. When he finally spoke he pointedly ignored the boy's question. "How old are you?" he asked.

"I'm five," the boy said.

"And your name?" he prompted.

The boy paused before looking up at Tom with an almost sharp look in his eyes. "You didn't tell me your name," he said.

Tom smirked before relenting. "My name is Tom," he said. "Now, little one, your name."

"Uncle calls me boy," the child offered, clearly trying to be helpful. "But he calls me freak, too."

Tom frowned. "Why does your Uncle call you a freak?"

"Because I'm not like Cousin Dudley," he said. "Things happen around me that aren't normal," the boy added, looking at the floor. "Auntie told me that my mother was a witch before she died, and Auntie told me that she's a Squib, but I can't tell Uncle or Cousin Dudley that because they'll hurt Auntie too."

"And what about your father?"

"Auntie told me that he and my mother died together, after a bad man broke into their house," the boy said.

A brief moment of silence passed before the boy looked up at Tom again, though this time he seemed almost hesitant. "I don't like it with Uncle. He and Cousin Dudley hit me," he said. "Auntie helps me sometimes, but Uncle hits her too. Can I stay here with you?" he asked.

"You may only stay here if you have a proper name, child," came the stern voice of Salazar Slytherin from behind Thomas.

Tom glanced over his shoulder and smirked. "I was looking for you, Salazar," he said with a smirk. "You have a lovely Manor and I am grateful that you allowed me to stay here for the summer."

"I find it much more favorable for me to keep my Heir safely hidden in my Manor, rather than allowing an incompetent Muggle-lover to banish you back to that orphanage," the ghost said almost dismissively. "Though I do not recall allowing a ragamuffin entrance here. How did you get in here, boy?" he asked, eying the child.

The boy stared at the ground. "I don't know. A man with a big white beard came up to me while I was in the forest near the park and said something in Latin."

"How did you know it was Latin that this man spoke?" Salazar asked.

"Auntie was teaching me, when Uncle and Cousin were out. She told me that it would be smart to know it when I grow up and live with the other Wizards."

Tom looked over at the boy. "I'm going to pick you up and carry you to a bedroom so that I can see how badly you've been hurt," he said.

The boy nodded and Tom picked him up.

"Follow me," Salazar said before leading them up a flight of stairs.

"What did the man with the white beard say?" Tom asked curiously.

The boy almost hesitantly rested his head on Tom's shoulder, appearing to fall asleep, but then he spoke. "He said 'preoccupo preteritus ex revolvo ipsum.' And then I was here," he said.

"Where did you come from?"

"Number four Privet Drive."

Salazar stopped and looked at the boy for a long moment, almost frowning. "And what year was that?" he asked suspiciously.

"1984," the child replied. "Why? What year is it now?"

"It is the 9th of July, in the year 1944," the ghost replied.

"Then how did I get here?" the child asked, looking over at Salazar. "Did something the man say do something to me?" he asked.

Tom just looked over at Salazar, neither of them sure what to say at the moment.

The child looked between the two of them for a few seconds before deciding that perhaps it was best to just wait for answers to come at a later time.


	2. Chapter 2

Second bit. Awesome. I also just finished watching SyFy's "Alice", which was also pretty fucking awesome (and I can't wait to watch the conclusion thing tomorrow). Anyway, **Please don't sue me**. Let's move to the story, shall we?

Chapter 2, if it pleases you.

* * *

After performing a few crude healing spells on the currently sleeping child, Thomas looked over at the ghost, who was sitting on a chair near the fireplace. "What do you make of this, Salazar?" he asked.

"I find it rather odd that the boy was being raised by a Muggle family."

"He did mention that his Aunt is a Squib," Tom said quietly.

"I do not care. He is a Wizard, and as such, he ought to have been raised in a Wizard family."

"What do you suggest I do with the child, then?"

"Despite the fact that it is not yet known how he was sent here, he is now here. I suggest you take the child in and keep him safe. He may prove valuable to you sometime in the future."

"And how do you suggest I go about doing that?" Tom snapped harshly.

"Apart from the fact that the boy has no proper name, I don't know the least bit about caring for a child."

The boy whimpered a bit and curled up into himself, still asleep.

Salazar stood up and walked over to stand directly in front of Tom, glaring down at the younger man. "You asked for my advice, Marvolo, and I gave it to you. Unless you think it necessary to ignore my suggestion, I think it would be best for you to lower your tone of voice and find the child something to eat, as he looks as though he has been starved," he hissed sharply, making Tom flinch a bit. "Go downstairs and find the kitchen. I will wait here with the child," he hissed.

After a brief moment, Tom nodded and left the room.

Salazar smirked and looked over at the sleeping child, all the while wondering what this meant.

The child whimpered once again and curled even further into himself. He whimpered again and flinched rather impressively, and Slytherin assumed the boy was having a nightmare.

He watched the child for a long minute, fascinated by the sensation. In his time, he had been regaled as an incredibly powerful sorcerer, too strong to be considered a mere wizard. While he had suffered far more than many might have seen necessary, he had learned that without such suffering, his power would not have been able to reach such phenomenal levels. He had never experienced the nightmares that his Thomas and this child apparently suffered from. His interest ceased quite a bit after a few minutes and headed back to his chair by the fire.

Slytherin had just managed to summon himself a glass of wine -- he was, after all, an incredibly powerful ghost -- when the child cried out rather loudly and hid himself rather impressively underneath one of the pillows on the bed. The ghost sighed inaudibly and looked back at his glass of wine, knowing that this interest, this curiosity, was going to dry up what was left of his soul much faster than if he merely avoided the child altogether. With yet another sigh, he silently vanished his glass of wine and walked over to the bed, taking a cautious seat on the edge of the bed. He made sure to sit as far away from the child as he could, so as not to further distress the boy, even though he was still asleep, and kept watch over the child.

---

When the boy woke up about ten minutes later, he opened his eyes to see the ghost of Salazar Slytherin sitting on the end of the bed, watching him with a passive expression.

"Your nightmares provoke a rather violent reaction from you. You will stay here for the time being, child," he said once he was sure that the boy was awake and paying attention to him. "I have spoken briefly with Marvolo and he has agreed to watch out for you for the time being," he said. "Though there is one major obstacle behind this charade," he commented.

"What?" the child asked.

"You claim that your only name is 'boy', or so Marvolo tells me."

"Who's Marvolo?" the child asked.

"He introduced himself as Tom to you, then. Marvolo is his middle name," Salazar said.

"I don't know my name, though," the child said, sitting up. He absently started playing with the hem of his t-shirt as he watched Salazar carefully.

"I will speak with Marvolo, then, and we will come up with something. You can not very well be called 'child' for the entirety of your stay with us."

A few moments later, the door opened and Tom walked into the room, carrying a tray of food with him.

"Who are you?" the boy asked of the ghost, finally having worked up the nerve to ask the question that had been bothering him since he had first laid eyes upon the ghost.

"I am the owner of this Manor. My name is Salazar Slytherin."

"And you're really a ghost?" he asked.

Slytherin just nodded, before turning his gaze onto Thomas.

Tom set the tray on the bed and took a seat, watching the boy carefully for a moment. "Salazar is right. You do need a name, little one," he said, successfully turning the conversation back to something that needed to be addressed rather urgently.


End file.
